


Unsteady - Destiel (AU)

by idfwspidey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, BoyxBoy, Crazy Dean Winchester, Dead John Winchester, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Fluff, Human Castiel, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soldier Dean Winchester, Soldier!Dean, War, a little smut, destiel au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idfwspidey/pseuds/idfwspidey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has turned Dean into someone he never thought he would be. His violence and drinking problem sends him to see a professional. His family and friends try everything to help him out along with the shrink but nothing works. It's not until he meets Cas when he gets better, or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm a little unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> First published Destiel fanfic....

It was a quiet evening. The sun had already set leaving the sky a comforting blue-grey colour. Small gusts of wind came and went causing the branches of trees to shiver slightly before returning to the still position they were previously in. As the night went on, the sky got darker and the world became quieter. The only noise that could be heard was a dogs bark from a block away, the same tone repeating over and over again. 

The impala's engine roared before Dean cut off the engine and put the handbrake on. He didn't realise his grip on the steering wheel was as tight as it was until he saw his knuckles go white and his hands started to become clammy and stuck to the leather. He sighed heavily grabbing the duffle bag from the seat next to him and putting it on his shoulder. He climbed out of the impala slamming the door shut and walking to his apartment stairs. He climbed them, stumbling on every other step. Once he got to his door he fumbled for the keys in his pocket. He locked the impala and unlocked his apartment door after many attempts of getting the key in the hole. It was the same routine, it had been for the past six months. Go to the bar, get back home, drink more then fall asleep. It was like his life was on repeat. 

Once he managed to fit himself and the full duffle bag in the doorway he kicked it shut and was greeted by his dog. He lowered the bag onto the floor gently the bottles clanking as they came into contact with the laminate floor. He crouched down and greeted him stroking his head and behind his ears. "Hey boy". The dog lowered himself, whimpering at the strong smell of liquor coming from Dean. With a sigh he stood up grabbing the bag and walked into the open kitchen, leaving the dog to stare at Deans back.

Dean emptied the bag, putting the bottles into the fridge leaving a bottle of whiskey on the side. He shut the fridge door and threw the empty bag to the other side of the apartment. With heavy hands he picked up the bottle and pulled the cap off before throwing it on the side along with the other bottle caps and empty liquor glasses.

As he sat down and put his booted feet up on the coffee table he heard the faint taps of raindrops against the small window. He felt so alone. But the problem with Dean is that every time someone tries to help he'll push them away, then there were times like these when he needed someone and no one was there. He put the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back letting the liquid rush out of the bottle and down his throat burning his insides. 

He put his feet firmly on the ground and rested the bottle on the table staring at the harmful substance. It didn't take long for the same images to play in his head like an old film, fast and jumpy. He was quick to grab the bottle again and drink the remaining liquid.

Several drinks later he was curled up hugging his knees resting his back against the bed, shouting violent words into thin air, the distressing images playing through his mind again. There was a pain in his chest and his eyes stung. His cheeks sore from the constant rubbing as the tears fell. He wanted it to go away, he couldn't take it any longer. It hurt.

___________________________________

"Dean?" He felt a hand tap his cheek couple of times "Dean!" He awoke bolting upward taking a breath and holding his head. "Dean?" He looked up to see Sam holding onto his shoulder, Jess behind him holding onto her phone, 911 most likely to have been dialled ready just in case. 

Once Dean had managed to stand up and make his way to the sofa in his apartment he was able to process his current situation. "You've got to stop this Dean" Sam said carefully perching himself on the arm of the scuffed up leather sofa. "This isn't healthy, it isn't a good life to live. Look at this place Dean" he sighed picking up an empty beer can from the floor and placing it on the coffee table. "How about you see that professional we spoke about before? She's good, really good. She will make you better, get you back to your old se-"   
"I'm not seeing a damn professional Sam!" He groaned and rested his head in his hand. "If dad was here, if he could see you right now"  
"He's not here Sam! Dad died! Ten years ago, remember!? So don't use that dad crap on me, it isn't going to work." 

It was quiet. Dean was sat staring at the wall while Sam looked at him, properly looked with worry in his eyes. "That's it, I'm not letting the war take anyone else, I won't. First dad, now it's eating you up, you're going to see that therapist whether you like it or not Dean. I will not stand here and watch you drink your life away until it kills you, it's poison. Not just for you but for me and mom" Dean rose to his feet and Sam flinched a little. "What you going to do Sammy? Drag me out of here?"  
"If I have to" Sam replied standing tall looking down at him. Dean chuckled a little looking at the floor, before throwing a punch at Sam causing him to stumble backward. "Dean sto-" he was cut off by another punch. 

Sam was straddling Dean on the floor holding his wrists to the ground as two officers made their way into the apartment. Sam didn't want to call the police, but when Dean pushed Jess into the wall to get at Sam, he knew it was the only option. Sam let go of Dean and stood up the cops turning Dean onto his front and pining his hands behind his back to cuff him. Dean struggled under their grip as he was lifted off the floor. "Be carful honey, the last chick who was this close to me got laid" he smirked at the deputy. She rolled her eyes, remarks like that obviously not bothering her. "Dean, you made me do this" Sam said hugging Jess close to him. "Once you've sobered up I'm going to bail you out and I'm taking you to that doctor" Dean was dragged out of the apartment and put into the police cab. 

___________________________________

 

Dean was thrown into a small cell. He walked around the cell looking at the engravings on the wall of people's entails and dates. He considered adding his own if he was in there long enough. He traced his fingers over some of them. 

After sitting in the cell for a while he started to crave the addictive whiskey he loved so much. His tongue ached for the taste and his throat could already feel the burning feeling it left behind. He just wanted to be back at his apartment with a bottle and his dog, listening to music louder than the neighbours would appreciate. 

"Winchester" Dean looked up to see an officer. "Someone's here to see you." Dean stood up and walked to the bars and someone stepped forward. "Bobby? What are you doing here?"   
"Sam called, telling me he had no choice but to put you here" Dean rolled his eyes at the mention of Sam. "Don't you give me attitude boy, your brother did the right thing. You're a danger Dean and not just to yourself"   
"Yeah yeah I've heard it before, you going to get me out of here?"  
"No" Bobby replied with a sigh pulling his cap off and scratching the top of his head before settling it back in his place. "Wait no? What the hell are you doing here then?"  
"I came to talk some sense into you, you idjit! You're staying here tonight and in the morning you'll be taken to a hospital."  
"A hospital" Dean frowned. "There's no way in hell I'm going to a loony bin you son of a bitch" 

 

There he was in a loony bin. He had fought with the doctors as they pulled him out of the van and into the building. It was what Dean expected, white walls, white floors and white lights. It was surprisingly quiet, too quiet. 

After Dean checked in and was given a tour of the place, he was aloud to settle in his room. A nurse in blue scrubs and a white coat walked in holding deans own scrubs. She placed them onto the bed next to where he sat, in silence.

He stared at the wall when she left and when she came back a couple of hours later to give him his first dosage of meds, he was still sat there facing the same wall. She took a seat next to him, setting the meds onto the bedside table. "How are you feeling Dean?" She asked with a gentle voice. After a few seconds of silence she pushed on. "You're going to take your medication and then I'll take you to Doctor Quinn for your therapy, okay Dean?" There was nothing Dean could do other than nod and take his medication, he was well aware that if he cooperated he'd be out of this hell hole in no time. 

He walked into the doctors room, it was reasonably sized. Two chairs were placed in the centre of the room, a small table placed between them with two glasses of water resting on top. There were a few plants around the room and a stereo on a bookcase in the corner opposite the door. It was like the ones you see in the movies. Dean felt someone walk in the room behind him as he inspected the place. "Dean Winchester?" A soft voice spoke. He turned to the owner of the voice to see a dark woman, her hair up with two pens pushed firmly into the bun. She was dressed rather nicely for a therapy session. This is the point where Dean would make a sarcastic comment or a pick up line but nothing came out of his mouth. 

He followed the doctors orders as she told him to sit down. He adjusted himself so he was sitting up straight. His head was bent to the side, the back of his head resting against the corner of the chair frame. He was tired and needed a drink, it was all Sam's fault. "Are you thirsty?" The doctor asked motioning to the glass of water on the table next to him. He turned to the glass. He wanted to wipe the condensation from the glass. It reminded him of when he was a kid. Him, Sam their mom and dad driving in the pouring rain. Sam was crying as the rain hammered onto the roof of the impala. Dean tried everything he could to stop the younger brother from being scared but nothing had worked. It was when Dean needed to cheer himself up that he drew a face on the window. He pointed it out to Sammy, drawing another one giving it hair and a body. Sam copied Dean, the grin that was placed in the smaller boys face was big, bigger than Dean had seen before. 

Dean soon came back to reality when he heard the doctor calling out his name. He didn't look at her, instead he kept his eyes on the glass watching the water run down the length of the cold glass and hit the table, the wood slowly soaking up the liquid. "It's going to take you a while to get back into your old routine Dean, it is normal for a soldier of many years to come home and go through this process of getting back into the previous life they had before they left" Dean looked at her. "It's not going to be easy for you Dean, not for Sam or your mother but you'll soon be out of here starting a family or getting a job or even travelling the world." Yeah right Dean thought, if on,y she knew what he had been through, if she had lived his life she wouldn't be saying that. Shrinks, they claim they understand and know how to help but they don't. They know jack shit. How can someone who you have just met, know how you feel? 

As if the timing couldn't have been better, he could hear the distant sounds of gunfire and shouting. All he could see was orange flames and black smoke, sand being pushed away covering the fallen bodies. "No" Dean whispered he stood up, looking at his friends on the ground covered in their own blood. "Oh god, no" he ran out of the room, his legs taking him through the corridors. He looked at his hands as he held onto the letter from his mother. He dropped it and rounded the corner, a weapon clutched tightly in his hands. He was aiming firing at everything that moved. He leant against a wall and slid down it backing away into the corner. He covered his face with his hands, running them through his hair tugging at it. "Help me" his voice came out quiet and hoarse before everything went black.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first part, sorry the update took so long but here it is.

Dean was sat on his bed, his boot resting against his knee as he moved the cloth back and forth shining the toe until he could see his reflection. He could hear the new guys outside of his tent as they were being shown around the base. That was him two tours ago. He remembered it like it was yesterday it was so clear to him, from the heat of the sun to the taste of his rations.   
He slid his foot into his boot turning twisting his ankle from side to side to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. Once he was satisfied he pulled at his laces and double knotted them. 

"Winchester" he rose to attention at the sound of his name. "At ease Corporal." He relaxed and sat back down on his bed. He looked to see his platoon lieutenant accompanied by an unfamiliar face. "This is private Lafitte, he's the new medic I'm counting on you to help him out, show him around"  
"Sir" Dean replied with a small nod before he disappeared outside leaving him with the scruffy looking Medic. "Corporal Dean Winchester" he held his hand out the medic dropped his stuff onto the floor and shook his hand "Benny Lafitte." 

Dean awoke with an uncomfortable throbbing feeling in his arm. He lifted his head up to see a needle placed into his skin, a short tube attached. "Ah you're awake, how do you feel?" He heard Doctor Quinn ask he grunted too out of it to reply in words. A glass of water was put on the side table. 

He sat up rubbing at his eyes with his palms, he blinked a few times until he could see clearly. He picked up the glass of water with shaky hands before gulping it down. The doctor sat down across from Dean as he sat there looking at the floor replaying what had happened before he blacked out. "Dean?" He turned to face her. "After yesterday's events, we have decided to give you more medication" Dean just nodded, not yet processing what she was saying. He couldn't remember much, all he could remember was being in the doctors room then being out in the corridor, he didn't unsteady and why he blacked out or why he was being prescribed with more medication. 

He was given time wake up more and have a sandwich before he was taken to see the same nurse that gave him his scrubs and first dosage of meds. It turned out that she was the nurse he had to speak to about his 'drinking habits'. 

"If I was to ask how many drinks you have a day, what would you say?" Dean shrugged before replying. "About seven or eight" he said his eyes closed thinking about the drinks he wanted badly. "A week?" She asked. "Fifty maybe sixty" he sighed he missed the taste so much. "What do you drink Dean?" She pushed writing down what Dean tells her. "Whiskey, scotch, a few beers" she nods.

She went on to ask how much sleep Dean gets in a week, his daily routine, his relationship with his family. "When did you start drinking Dean? When you got back from the war?" Dean nodded a little avoiding the question with words, the quieter he was the better he would feel. 

___________________________________

It had been one month, one week and four days, 936 hours to be exact. In that time Dean had been through 468 hours of therapy, had refused 49 meals, tried to escape 63 times, had counted how many ceiling tiles there were in his room 156 times (there are 92) and had pretended to take his meds 178 times. The longer he was in here the crazier he was getting. 

He was walking through the corridors, something he usually does to clear his mind. He didn't crave his beloved whiskey as much as he did before but there were a few times when it would be the only thing he wanted. He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks as he saw a familiar face, it wasn't the only time he had seen him but this time it was clearer and more real. He stared at the man, carrying a rifle, his uniform dirty, torn. Blood slowly poured from his torso, just above his stomach. "No" Dean whispered. He blinked and the man was gone.

Dean was sat at his sentry post with bendy who was shivering in the cold desert. It was dark and silent, a very uncomfortable silence. The silence that makes the hairs on the back of your neck and arms stand up. The silence that made you close your eyes tightly and curl up under the covers as a kid when you hear the slightest noise or see a shadow. It was scary here, just no one really showed it.

"Who's waiting for you back home then?" Benny whispered not taking his eyes off the desert in front of him. "My mom and brother" Dean whispered back quickly taking a glance at the deep blue sky. "You?" He asked bringing his attention back to the horizon. "My parents and my sister" Benny replied pulling a picture from his boot and handed it to Dean who took it holding it carefully. Dean nodded with a small smile handing it back to Benny. Dean pulled out his own picture from the roll ups in his sleeve. It was a photograph of himself with Sammy and his parents. "It was taken before my dads last tour here, we were hoping it wasn't the last time we saw him, but.." He put the picture back and held onto his weapon again. 

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder he turned round to see Doctor Quinn with her notepad. "Are you okay Dean?" Dean nodded a little looking back to the spot where he saw Benny. "Okay, let's go" they headed for her room. They both sat in their usual seats Dean slouched a little and his head cocked to the side focussing his attention on her notepad and pen. She began writing the usual, name date time before she began the session. "Did you see anyone earlier Dean? In the corridor?" Dean nodded with a quiet sigh. "Who did you see? Was it Benny?" Deans eyes snapped up from the pad to her face at the mention of his name. "Who is Benny, Dean?" She asked sitting forward slowly. "How do you know his name" Dean spoke, anger in his voice and a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. "You often shout his name in the nightmares you have, and when you are having an episode" Dean could see Benny standing behind her, dirty and covered in blood. He stood up his eyes not leaving him. "Dean.." Benny whispered before disappearing. He heard the doctor call out his name but it was distorted, he could only focus on the memories of him and Benny. They played through his mind in a flash of Crimson, the sound of shouting and bullet shells hitting the floor. 

Within seconds it was quiet it was just Dean standing in the middle of the room, the doctor a few steps away, notepad and pen no longer in her hands. He lowered himself onto the chair, Doctor Quinn doing the same. "Tell me about him Dean, tell me what happened." 

"We hadn't known each other for that long.." Dean started after taking a breath in. 

Dean and Benny felt like they had known each other their whole lives. Six months of spending every minute with each other and practically sleeping on top of one another would make you feel that way. Benny was like a brother to Dean, they had become so close, he felt like he knew more about Benny than he did about Sammy. Sure him and Sammy were close growing up, but with Dean enrolling and Sammy going to Stanford they had lost a few years. "I'm not s'posed to be here" Bennys strong southern accent brought dean back to reality from his fantasy of him in a strip club with a cold beer and a chick dancing above him. "You're not?" Dean replied as they walked through a small village, children watching them as they passed. "Nah, I was supposed to continue with the family business but being stuck behind a grill all day didn't really interest me. Being here, it gives me the satisfaction that I'm doing something good, making a change" Dean nodded handing a group of kids a few sweets before they left the village. 

"Before my dad enrolled he was a mechanic, wanted me to follow his footsteps, but after the war took him I wanted to be the hero he was, it also makes me feel closer to him." 

"Some days it was quiet, we could walk for hours and manage to set up base camp and sleep without being shot at, sometimes there were several times during the day where we were hit" 

"Get to cover!" Dean didn't know who was shouting, he was too busy trying to find a safe spot. He settled with a long trench-like dip in the ground. A few other men were down there with him occasionally standing up and taking a shot or few before crouching down again. He could see Benny on his knees leaning over someone on the ground a blood covered bandage in his hands. Dean ran over to them and helped Benny move the injured soldier to a safer spot. 

Benny was able to save her, they managed to get back to base in time for him to do what he needed to do in the medic tent. She was soon flown to the infirmary at the larger base so she could recover. They did the usual moment of silence for the brothers and sisters they had lost that day, trying not to think too much of it because they knew it would catch up to all of them.

Dean hadn't realised how long he had been talking for. He had been talking about everything and anything he could, the colour and texture of the sand and how the temperature changed from morning to night, anything. The doctor knew he was avoiding what had happened to Benny, she pushed him to keep going but Dean would still change the subject.


End file.
